


Lucky

by chefke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Blind Character, Cute Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chefke/pseuds/chefke
Summary: Draco Malfoy was blinded by Voldemort during the last battle. He is unloved, unlucky, and spends his life alone. However, all of that changes with one stumble on a hot summer's day.Thank you to my beta 4vrSmoaked!!!This fic was written for the 100 days challenge. It was also written to bring awareness to the app that helps blind people called Be My Eyes! I did a lot of research with my friend (who is a trained specialist with the blind - as well as research with the app) to prep for this challenge and I'm really happy how it came out.





	Lucky

**Lucky**

****

Draco turned his head up and smiled as the warmth of the sun beat down on his face. Though he could not see what a  beautiful sunny day today was, he could still appreciate it. As a teenager, his summers used to be filled with laughter and friends in his pool or pond. Now, he spent all his time with people a decade or four older than him; his summer activity included knitting or holding a small tot while her mother cooked. He had been unlucky in his adult life, frightfully unlucky.

A loud noise pounded through his eardrums and Draco hurried down the path he was on, gripping his white and red walking stick for dear life. The noise came again but Draco kept moving. As the noise began to fade, he cursed silently as he stumbled over an unfamiliar cobblestone path. The familiar tapping of his white and red stick had paused as he tumbled to the ground. Sighing, he took a deep breath as he attempted to gracefully search for his only loyal assistant, his new pair of eyes.  
  
He paused his search, quelling the overwhelming helplessness that overcame him, every time he lost his bearings and became utterly helpless. As part of the elite within the Pureblood wizarding community, being helpless wasn’t something he was accustomed to or had ever experienced too. The first time he felt the swirling depths of helplessness was when his worthless father had been carted off to Azkaban, and Voldemort settled himself into his home.  
  
His Mother, however, was a constant presence in his life. When he was tot and he shattered Father's favorite crystal decanter, his mother had hid the evidence and blamed it on his elf. When he crashed his new broom into a tree over Christmas holidays in first year, she found another excuse and saved from his father's wrath. Even when his father was Azkaban, she always protected him. She taught him Occlumency and how to duel relentlessly. She gave him for his birthday a small wristwatch, filled with the supply of life-saving potions and several portkeys set up to safe houses. .  
  
During the final battle, she had run towards him throwing aside her Black regale posture composure. She sobbed as while checking him over for any signs of injuries; his father barely even looked at him. It was why instinct had sent him flying in front of his mother, when Voldemort aimed his wand towards his parents shortly before Potter killed him. His father had been killed instantly, and his mother walked away without a scratch on her.  
  
His own fate wasn’t such a lucky one. He woke up in St. Mungo’s, three months later, into an utter and total blackness. After he was sufficiently calmed down by the Healers, he was released into his mother's care. She explained to him that he was thrown unconscious into a cell, in a Dementor-free Azkaban, until his trial. What should have been a simple transient blindness case, had, unfortunately, festered and it became permanent. The good Wizards and Witches of the Wizengamot let him off, scott-free, to appease their guilt, after all, it was their fault that he lost his sight. The newspapers had called him  _lucky_ for escaping their wrath - he laughed when his mother read him the headline - He considered himself, nowadays, the most unlucky person alive.  
  
He fisted his hands in frustration. When he was as helpless as he was now, he would often dream about trading his freedom for his sight back. It was a deep dark hole he hated going down. Taking a deep breath, he resumed his search for his cane that was somewhere on the cobblestone.  
  
One of his few blessings was that the fact that the Wizengamot and St. Mungo’s had been able to keep his condition quiet and away and away from the press. It was now five years later, and still, no one knew about his condition. If he had been able to read the Prophet, he would find nothing about the infamously rich bachelor, Draco Malfoy. The world forgot he existed and he was more than happy to leave them it that way. The only time he was remembered, was during Ministry hearings and the weekly trips to St. Mungo’s.  
  
When he attended a sitting at the Ministry, he was either in disguise or through a private Floo connection within the Wizengamot's chambers. Even though he couldn't see their pitying glances, he hated them all the same.  
  
In contrast to the Wizengamot, the Healers at St. Mungos gave him looks of compassion and a variety of physical touches indicating their moral support. His appointments with them were weekly during his St. Mungo’s Retinal checkups. It was where he had been coming from when a loud airplane that flew too low and distracted him. It only took minutes for him to turn twice wrongly and stumble and fall on the unfamiliar terrain.    
  
Hearing the noon chime on his watch, brought his attention back to his current issue. He groped around on bits of pebble on the pavement,  only Merlin knew where, for his walking aide. Based off of the lack of noise and human aide, he discerned that he was probably in an abandoned alleyway.  
  
It still surprised him how genuinely kind muggles were. In the wizarding world, he would have been kicked to the dirt and forced to beg for scraps at corners of Knockturn Alley. He'd have been reduced to little more than a slag, for something he had no control over.  
  
The muggles, however, offered to help, and they were the main reason why he had a flat in muggle London, sharing the building with two other neighbors. On the first floor, lived a couple with twins and on the second floor, an old lady whose husband, Gary, died last year; kind and tender Gary helped him fix up his apartment so that Draco could live more independently. Draco was heartbroken when a stroke ended Gary’s life.  
  
During the funeral that was filled with many war veterans and old friends of the couple, many people stopped to say hello and a few kind words to him personally. Apparently, Gary had spoken about Draco to many. During the reading of his will, Draco inherited a flute that Gary had carved himself, and Gary’s father's watch. The watch was now Draco’s most prized possession, and he never took it off. The flute sat in the center of his coffee table and Draco played it daily.  
  
Every morning he ate breakfast with Gertrude, to keep her from being lonely. They often talked about Gary, and she taught him to play the flute, which he played for her every day. Every Tuesday and Thursday, they went shopping for their groceries and after dropping off their groceries, they walked leisurely in the park. The two often got so lost in their deep conversations, they forgot about lunchtime and spoke well into dinner time.  
  
He had once asked Gertrude, why Gary had left him such precious gifts. Draco knew they had no children, but didn't she want to have the inheritance? She had patted his arm, laughed and proclaimed him to be the son they were never able to have. He made her first swear that Gary considered him his son and had loved him like one, after which Draco cried in her strong wrinkled arms for a long time. When he regained his composure as much as possible, Gertrude took taken him home and made him his favorite tea and biscuits.

  
Alice and Marty, from the first floor, introduced him to the wonderful world of mobiles and audiobooks. It turned out Marty's sister was a muggle-born, and Marty knew quite a bit about the Wizarding community. However, he never told his sister about the wizard living two floors above him and always gave Draco a notice before she came over.  
  
Marty sat with him and taught him how to use an iPhone. How to hold it and talk to it like it was a person. Even though the phone's name was Siri, he liked to call it Elfy. Essentially, for him, it really was like a house elf, but wrapped in a cold metal.  
  
He smiled as he remembered when his mother told him, she’d freed the elves and giving all of the wages and clothes. She was more excited about designing their new uniforms then the good PR it brought to the Malfoy name. She visited two times a week for dinner, and once a week, he went to the Manor. She missed him, he knew this. But he also knew that she had someone new in her life. The old Draco would have paid off enough people to find out whoever it was, and destroy him. The new Draco wanted his mother to be happy, something he was fairly certain she never had been with his father.  
  
His phone vibrating broke him out of his reverie. It began to buzz again when he remembered: the App!  
  
Alice found out an app that helped visually impaired people when they were stuck. It worked as if he had a portable Floo call sitting in the palm of his hand. Sitting on his knees, he dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

 

Tapping the side of the phone, he called out. "Open 'Be My Eyes' app." A short jingle accompanied the app being opened on his phone.  
  
"Do you need help?" It asked.  
  
"Yes." He replied.  
  
"Are you injured or needing medical assistance?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Connecting you with a volunteer. Please wait." He waited for two more jingles until he heard the tone of the video call being connected. He waited for the volunteer to introduce himself but all he heard was a sharp intake of breath.  
  
"Hi, I'm Draco Black. I really appreciate you picking up my call."  
  
"Of...of course. I'm... Dr. Greene. How can I help you with? Did you fall? Are you okay?" The woman's voice was gentle and soft.  
  
"Yeah. I forgot the bloody British Air Force was doing practice patrols and the noise surprised me. I'm afraid I'm lost and I've lost my bloody walking stick." She giggled at his tirade. Draco's body stiffened at the most breathtaking noise he had ever heard and given his lack of sight, he heard  _everything_.  
  
"I've been listening all day too, I'm afraid. I have a migraine for the books!" He continued to listen to her soft reply, not really sure if he should respond, or if he had waited too long and it was creepy.  
  
"Okay," she continued, "Let's find your cane and then get you home. Sounds like a good plan, right?"  
  
"A great plan." He responded, but he didn't really want to look for his stick, he wanted to sit on the cobblestone and listen to her laughter.  
  
"Okay. Can you raise your mobile a bit? Like that, yes." The next several minutes were spent with her guiding him to the wall. When she finally caught sight of the street he was on, she gasped in horror.

"Goodness! You’re in a terrible area. All abandoned trains. I'm working at a clinic not too far from you, and I was just about to skip out early, to grab a sunny day at the beach. I’ll be there in a minute." He gulped audibly. He didn't want her to hang up.

  
"Ummm... Would you mind terribly to stay on? I get nervous... It sounds silly being that I’m blind and all, but I get nervous in the dark."  
  
"Of course! I'm jumping into my car, just one second." He could hear her voice soften at his request. Growing up, he would never have asked for help. Now, he depended on it, he couldn't buy food for himself, if he didn't.  
  
He could hear in the background, as her shoes pattering on the sidewalk and then on the pavement. Followed by the jingling of keys and a door slammed shut.  
  
"Are you okay Mr. Black?" She asked as the engine started in the background.  
  
"Yes, thank you. I can't even begin to express my gratitude."  
  
"It’s my pleasure. Honestly, as a medical professional, it’s frightening how few of my colleagues actually bother doing the clinic or volunteer work."  
  
"Really? Don't all doctors have a 'save the world' complex?" Like bloody Potter, except that his mother mentioned he was an Auror now, and so was Weaselbee.  
  
"That is how it should be. Sadly, some only want the paycheck." Draco heard her blinkers turn on and he wondered how far she was, and if she would consent to coffee as gratitude.  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"I know." She huffed.  
  
"No really, tell me about it. I don't have anywhere to be. And I literally have no idea who you are. I'm a free agent. Go on, speak your mind. My neighbors say I would have made a great family counselor. Apparently, I have a good listening ear." She chuckled and his spirits literally soared to quidditch level heights.  
  
"Okay, Mr. Family Counselor. I work with this one guy, let's call him Adrian."  
  
"Is his name really Adrian?"  
  
"Yes. Now shush. I'm your patient and it's rude to interrupt." He laughed, placing his finger on his lips, to signal the universal hand gesture for quiet.  
  
"So, Adrian is this big shot Doctor I work with, who's convinced he is going to cure this Pox disease, that's been running rampant. He wants a promotion _and_ a medal. I actually caught him trying to nick _my_ work. I've been pulling double shifts and when I’m not working, I research, I speak with patients, and run thousands of tests! The only thing he's done is submit to the Director one of my theories that he nicked, citing it as groundbreaking and insisting that he should be pulled out of general duty so he can concentrate on _my_ research."  
  
"Can't you report him to your Director?"  
  
"I didn't want to, but I ended doing it, and he called me an over-achieving swot plus he gave me all of Adrian's rounds. One day, the canteen was closed for an inspection, in case the disease is coming from the food, so I had to go out for lunch. I saw him at a bloody pub and he was drinking! People are dying, and he's in a pub!"  
  
"Please tell me you took a picture and reported him?" Draco felt his anger simmer at this Adrien fellow. He was clearly a lazy power hungry git, like Draco’s father.  
  
"I took a picture but then realized there was no point in reporting it. He's chums with the Director. There's no point, I'll just get called an overachieving swot again and given more rounds."  
  
"I went to school with an overachieving swot. She's a genius. What I would give for her to have looked over my case..." He sighed. If Hermione Granger had looked over his case, he was sure she would have found a cure for him. He'd get his sight back, or at least partial sight... He'd be able to see his mother smiling at him when he came for dinner. He'd be able to play Quidditch again or to see what Gertrude, Marty, and Alice look like.  
  
"And why can't she?"  
  
"She doesn't work in the medical field, She works for the government protecting the less fortunate or something."  
  
"Hmmm... Or something..."  
  
Draco was distracted by her comment, he was about to ask her about it, when he heard the grumbling of tired on the individual bumps and ridges of cobblestone. He stood up slowly and dusted off his trousers. It was not as if he could see what he was dusting off, but decades of being a Pureblood prince didn't disappear because he lost his sight.  
  
"I can see you, Mr. Black! Don't move." The car came to a halt and she exited the car, the engine still thrumming. She scurried towards him, while she clicked her key, locking her car doors remotely.  
  
"Fancy car." He smirked, smelling the new leather and polished wax from afar. She had paused her walking and soon, he recognized the familiar tap of his seeing stick.  
  
"My parents are dentists. They were ecstatic when they found out I was going to medical school." She approached him slowly and he was instantly drowning in a familiar smell of cinnamon, apples, and something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.  
  
"May I take your arm, Mr. Black?"  
  
"Depends." He treated her to the infamous Malfoy smirk.  
  
"Oh?" She was clearly not impressed.  
  
"You allowing me to buy you a drink? Coffee or perhaps Tea?" She chuckled at his uneasiness.  
  
"I've maxed out my caffeine intake for the day. I do love a nice cuppa, though." He smiled brightly, wishing fervently he could see her. She was probably glorious.  
  
"One cuppa for my brave and underappreciated doctor hero." She laughed again and using the softest of touches, she guided him slowly towards the car. He had no need to rush and she smelled so nice, that he didn't complain about the pace. That and he really didn’t want to trip again.  
  
When they were next to the car he could hear the thrum of the engine.  
  
"I'm going to let go for a second okay? I'm just getting the door." He felt her squeeze his shoulder lightly before firmly putting his stick back in his hands. He folded his stick and put it in its designated pocket inside his trousers, as he heard the unlocking of a door unlock and how she opened it.  
  
She helped him into the leather seat of her car, by the time she got in, he’d managed to fasten his seatbelt without requiring help.  
  
"Where to?" She asked.  
  
"Third and Coventry." She pulled out slowly and he clenched his hands together in anxiety. He hated the feeling of being so out of control. It was the reason why he lived so close to one of the muggle entrances for St. Mungo’s. He refused to take the metro or taxi more than necessary.  
  
"It's okay to be nervous, I'll go slow and warn you of any bumps." The drive was slow and comfortably filled with chatter and laughter. He was saddened when she announced their arrival until he remembered his invitation for tea.  
  
Suddenly, he became nervous, fearing she wouldn't like his tea, or his home wouldn’t be adequate for her. He was vaguely aware of his sweaty palms, as she helped him step out of the car. Using his stick with her arm firmly wrapped around his, he gathered his bearings.  
  
Two steps to the left.  
  
"Are we adjacent to a light pole, Dr. Green?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"On the fifth tile?"  
  
"Yes." Using his stick, he guided them towards the familiar pathway into his building's entrance.  
  
"If you don't mind me saying, you're incredibly impressive." She said, as he keyed the front door open and held it for her.  
  
"I've had time to practice." She passed by him, and the familiar swirl of sweet apple, cinnamon, and the still unknown scent filled his overly sensitive nose. He guided her to the lift and after locating the button, called it. The doors whooshed open, immediately surrounding him with the comforting grandmotherly smell of Lavender and apple pie.  
  
"Where have you been?" Gertrude barked. “You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”

Draco felt his face pull into a frown. He usually met with Gertrude for lunch after his weekly check-up at St. Mungo's. She sounded extremely worried.

“I’m sorry, Gertrude. I stumbled a bit and had to ask for help. This is Dr. Green, my hero.”

Gertrude laughed. “Dr. Green, is it?”

“Yes.” Dr. Green responded firmly.

“Well go on you two, you’re only young once.”

They both sputtered of embarrassment at Gertrude’s insinuation; Draco heard the lift ding and the three hurried inside.

“So,” said Gertrude. “What hospital do you work at Dr. _Green_?”

The young Doctor began to stutter, and before she got a chance to answer, the lift announced Gertrude’s floor. “Have a good night you two. Draco, ring me and let me know if we’re still on for lunch tomorrow.”

The lift was filled with silence after the doors closed. His mind spun through different scenarios and conversations, but he ultimately shot them all down in favor for the quiet lift ride. His floor was announced and he exited towards his apartment, counting the necessary taps of his cane until he reached his door. Dr. Green stopped him with a gentle press to his shoulder.

”I have a confession to make.”

‘Your name isn’t Dr. Green, and you work at St. Mungo’s?” Draco guessed. There was silence for several moments and Draco wondered idly if she had slipped away.

“Oh, sorry. I nodded, but of course, you can’t see it. Yes and yes.” Draco stopped and turned towards her.

“Why the lie?” He asked simply.

“I wasn’t sure you would accept my help, and you were in a _terrible_ neighborhood. How did you know I was a witch?”

“It took a bit to isolate, but you smell like parchment. Also, why wouldn’t I accept your help?” He tried not to be offended at the witch who was already judging him. She must have realized that he was a Malfoy as soon as she picked up the distress call.

“I’m kind of _the_ overachieving swot you went to Hogwarts with.” Draco almost dropped his stick.

“Granger?”

“That’s me.”

“Both of your parents are dentists?” Draco wasn’t sure why all of the things that were going through his mind, that was the one that made an appearance on his lips. He tried not to laugh.

“Yeah. They were pretty disappointed to find out there was a charm that made their entire profession obsolete.”

“I would be too. Would you like to come in for tea, Hermione?” It was a last minute decision to use her given name and he hoped, based on their conversation, before he realized she was Granger, that she wouldn’t mind.

“Yes, please. If you’re okay with it.”

Draco smiled at her and turned towards his apartment door. Pressing the pad of his finger to the door, he heard the gears whirr as they recognized his thumbprint. The door unlocked and he walked in, Hermione close behind him. Most of the features in his flat worked automatically, so even though he couldn’t see, he knew the lights turned on in every room and he heard the door automatically close behind him

“Should I take off my shoes?”

“No, it’s okay, not like I can see scuff marks. I’m going to get started on the tea. Do you have a specific flavor you like?”

“Chamomile please.”

She followed him into the kitchen and asked him questions about his medical case, which he tried to answer to the best of his knowledge. After they sat down with their teas, she continued to ask him out about what treatments they had tried and even used a couple of spells and diagnostics. Draco was honestly happy to be this close to her intoxicating mixture of parchment, apples, and cinnamon.

“Do you mind if I looked into your case? I’m off for the next week. I work every other week.”

“Sure. I was planning on going to the beach with Gertrude, though. I’ll ring her-”

“I don’t want to interfere with your time. I can come over tomorrow evening, maybe?"

Draco shrugged. “It’s okay. I know she’s tired, she’s recovering from the flu. I only go because the healer insists on weekly visits, saying it’s good for my vitamin D levels and my immune system.”

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Draco heard a clump as her cell phone made contact with the oak sideboard.

Using Elfy the iPhone, Draco called Gertrude. The stubborn older woman insisted he should go with Hermione to the beach, instead. Hermione agreed happily and they made plans for the next day.

 

The two giggled about the older woman's cantankerous attitude. In the end, Hermione stayed so long that they were both starved and in desperate need of food. Instead of ordering take away she insisted on cooking him dinner, the Granger family famous mac and cheese.

 

Draco was skeptical about the dish, but after several minutes of listening to an odd culmination of cursing and clanking from the kitchen, he was convinced the entertainment factor alone was worth it. When the food was finally cooking he almost had a heart attack from the smells coming from the kitchen. Hermione giggled and had to physically pull him away from cooker when he tried to sneak a taste. Sitting down to eat and Draco could feel Hermione's nerves. She was in the middle of asking about his mother when he tasted the concoction. Holding up a hand in the request for silence, he needed to sit back for a full minute to savor the rich and creamy taste.

“Is it bad? Is it good? You didn’t have any paprika, and I’ve never made it without-”

“Hermione, you are invited to come every night and make mac and cheese.” She laughed, causing Draco’s heart to soar and his palms to get sweaty. They opened a bottle of wine and the two were slowly unwinding and getting more comfortable, sitting on his fluffy carpet and debating about magical law and theorem. She confessed turning down a position at the Ministry, after a bad breakup with Ron Weasley. Draco was hardly surprised to hear that she discovered him cheating with Lavender Brown, and refusing to see Ron daily, thereafter...

“I mean you could have at least hexed them.”

Hermione giggled. “Like a permamemnt… a permamament… like a sticking charm?”

Draco laughed and nodded. He heard her slap her forehead and he wondered how she looked like, after all these years. Was her hair still a god-awful mess?

“Draco, you’re a genius! I tell you what, next time I catch  a cheating bastard, I will call you and you will help me!” Draco laughed at her mumblings. She had way too much to drink.

“Granger, I don’t reckon you should be driving or apparating home.”

“Nope.” Her lips popped on the ‘P’ with a loud smacking noise, also making Draco hard. Not for the first time that evening, Draco wished he could see.

“Are you usually such a lightweight?”

“No, I’m nervous.”

Draco scoffed. “Why are you nervous?”

“You’re pretty, Draco. I act weird around pretty people. My therapist says it’s because I don’t think I’m pretty. Silly therapist. Just ‘cuz your Mum says your pretty, it doesn’t make it so.”

“I think you’re pretty, Hermione.” The words slipped out of Draco’s mouth before he could stop them. Shite.

“You can’t see me. No offense.”

“Show me.” He whispered. All at once, the lightness in the room turned into a tension that Draco felt permeate throughout his body. He got the goosebumps over his arms, and became self-conscious, hoping she didn’t notice.

“What do you mean?” Her voice was clear and was no longer stumbling on her words. Draco reached out his right hand towards Hermione. The soft ruffling on the rug indicated that she scooted over the rug and closer to him.

“Show me.” He repeated his hand still in the air.

Hermione’s small hand gripped his wrist gently as if she was scared to break whatever moment they were having. He could hear her heavy breathing. Slowly, she pulled his wrist towards her face gently letting it go, once the tips of his fingers brushed against her cheek.

Draco sat up on his knees and placed his left hand on her other cheek.

He rubbed lazy circles reveling on the smoothness of her skin. He could feel the hardness of her cheekbone beneath her soft cheeks. Leaving his right hand in place, he let his left hand follow the descent of skin underneath her eye. The feel of her skin changed to be softer under the pads of his thumbs. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his thumb, when it ran softly across her closed eyes, threading his fingers through her hair.

Her hair was warm and felt like soft crushed velvet, or as the roses, his mother was so fond of. His right hand followed the left and both of his hands were in her hair. Her breath hitched as his thumbs rubbed lazy circles next to her eyes, they were closed. She couldn’t see either.

He released his fingers from her hair and slowly ran them across her lips. Her breath hitched again, and Draco felt himself pulse with a need to be closer to her. Draco got no warning as her smooth fingers skidded across his jaw.

“Wha-” Draco’s voice was husky and low, reminiscent from a time when he was at the top of the world and had a bevy of witches at his beck and call.

“I want to see you through the same the way you see me.” She whispered. Unwilling to remove both of his hands from her, he used one hand to guide her fingers across his face. She gasped and Draco sat still, feeling her fingers down his neck.

“Draco, I-” Draco leaned forward in time to meet her lips. Their kisses started out soft and tender, and Draco didn’t even have time to wonder how he had gotten to have _Hermione Granger_ sitting next to him on his plush rug and was snogging him.

“More, Draco.” She moaned when he broke their kiss, breathing heavily.

“I haven’t… not since-” He murmured. She silenced him with another kiss. This time it was different,. it was urgent and needy. Not an innocent kiss, but a beginning. A beginning that would lead to something much better.

Draco leaned over her, pinning her to the ground. He ran his hands down her silk shirt searching for the hem, so he could pull it off. He was pleasantly surprised to find it was actually a silk dress, and he pulled it over her head with one tug. Her hands were scrabbling at his shirt unfastening his buttons and Draco assumed she opened her eyes.

He helped her remove his shirt off and tug his pants down. She kissed him as he leaned over her body once more, wondering how in the hell he had _gotten so damn lucky in life._

 

* * *

 

**Eight years later**

 

Draco sat quietly in the spare chair in Head Healer Spatinoid’s office, listening to Hermione, who was talking rapidly with the Healer; Draco only understood every third or fourth word. The treatment his fiancé suggested was experimental, but she had been working on it for the past two years and Draco was confident that it would work.

“It could kill him, Healer Granger!”

“Mr. Spatinoid, I’ve shown you the research and the tests. The worst it could do is harm any further progress in this specific field-” Draco sighed. When Hermione was on the verge of getting angry she referred to Healer Spatinoid as Mr, instead of his proper title.

“Healer Granger, I implore you not to take this personally but your friends at the Ministry are the reason why he is like this, to begin with. While I generally encourage-”

“Mr. Spatinoid-” Hermione’s voice cracked and Draco sat up immediately, searching for her hand.  “I am going to be married in four months. It’s a three month healing period. I want my fiancé to know what I look like when I walk down the aisle.”

The Healer sputtered. Draco’s mother had kept their engagement out of the papers. Potter and Weasley didn’t agree with her relationship so it left no one else to tell. The pair was content with having a perfectly intimate muggle wedding with only their three family members: his mother and the bride’s parents. His neighbors would all be in attendance and Alice had practically burst into tears when Hermione asked if her daughter would be the flower girl.

Narcissa and Hermione became close friends. Draco discovered that his mother was constantly canceling _their_ lunches so the two women could go for girl _dates,_ whatever the bloody hell that was.

“Healer Spatinoid,” Draco drew the attention of the healer to him, though Hermione had stopped calling the man by his title as he continued to refuse her request to treat Draco. “My fiancé and I have been trying different methods of treatment, for the last eight years. After this treatment, we are putting it to rest and will accept my sightless fate. Until then, I ask that you support us.”

Healer Spatinoid sighed and began speaking about technical issues with Hermione.

Draco was terrified, this was his last shot. Gertrude wanted so much to come with him to the procedure, but she wasn’t allowed inside St. Mungo’s. Hermione had moved into his flat a couple of months after their first night together, and he had met her parents shortly thereafter.

Right now, he wanted to see her, wanted truly to see her. Hermione had discovered that you could see in a pensive, blind or not, and it made her question if the eyes could not be adjusted with the same spells and incantations used in a pensieve. It had taken months to plan plus almost two years and a full team of Healers to work out the logistics, but they were finally at the homestretch.

He hoped to be able to see her face light up when he came home. He wanted to see her smile when he made her tea, just the way she liked. Most of all, he would know how she looked like, and not just felt like. He wanted it all with the woman he loved so much and he wasn’t sure he could wait much longer.

 

* * *

**Four months later**

 

Draco fixed his tie. He could have done it with his eyes closed, but one didn’t give up the chance to look in a mirror when they went without sight for so long. His sight had returned the night before. His eyes unclouded while he was drinking a glass of whiskey with Hermione’s dad.

By now, they all thought the experiment to be unsuccessful. Healer Spatinoid had Flood over insisting that it would work but the outcome was delayed due to stress. Despite their rough start, Healer Spatinoid became a close friend over the last four months. After the good healers' assurances that he would say nothing to the bride, he Flooed home. Draco woke up early that morning and sat staring out the open window.

The sky was blue and sunny much like the summer day when Hermione found him on the pavement. She had often described the day in detail, but nothing accounted for being able to see the pale blue that blanketed the sky. He watched all kinds of birds fly by, wondering if one day he would learn all of their names.

He dressed up, carefully paying attention to every detail. Noticing the light blue in the small flowers of his chest pocket, and the dark blue lining the inside of his robes. His hair was brushed back.

“Draco?” He turned to see his mother standing at the door next to an elderly white-haired woman with dull blue eyes. They both had tears running down their faces.

“Good god,” Gertrude whispered. Draco rushed into their open arms, not bothering to hold back his tears as he was comforted by two of his three maternal figures in his life.

“We came to tell you that they’re ready for you. God, Hermione’s going to have a stroke. I’m going to have a stroke. Draco, you have to mind my age!” Gertrude scolded him slightly. His mother took Gertrude’s hand and together, they guided him out of the room. Draco followed them and walked outside towards the wedding hall.

They were to be married underneath an archway of flowers. It was a beautiful mixture of yellow, blue, and pink. He stood impatiently with his back to everyone examining the flowers. As the music began to play, he closed his eyes and turned. He could hear her footsteps. Light but determined, as was her way. She was halfway down the aisle when he opened them.

Color flooded into his eyes, but he could only see one thing in his line of vision. Even if he had his sight all of his life, he doubted if he ever saw anything so beautiful. She had aged since school but she was graceful and mature. Her lips were painted a pale pink and given the beauty she already was, he was glad that she wore no makeup.

Hermione’s hair was pinned into an elegant knot and her veil ran down her dress and out onto the floor. Her hands were trembling while she held her cream flowered bouquet. Her eyes looked at him with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, in the same deep swirling brown he had always known, but now were special to him. They were his to watch and to love.

She stopped abruptly, staring into his eyes. “Draco?”

“I told you, you were beautiful.” He whispered.

The guests were standing in alarm but Draco heard only her gasp. She hurtled down the rest of the aisle, and into his arms. They kissed, and Draco wondered once again, how in the hell he had ever gotten so lucky.

* * *

  **A/N: This piece won third place in the fest! Thank you so much for everyone that read, rated, and voted! I am humbled beyond words!**


End file.
